


Watch Them Fall Down

by grimmauxillatrix



Category: Homestuck, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5283176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmauxillatrix/pseuds/grimmauxillatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saaban Verilo has been assigned to the Super Star Destroyer Executor, as part of the unofficial exchange program between the Troll Empire and the Galactic Imperial Empire. Saaban Verilo hates his job. Saaban Verilo finds something just amusing enough to make this job, and the whole exchange program, vaguely worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch Them Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [On the Star Destroyer Venus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871498) by [Eisenschrott](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisenschrott/pseuds/Eisenschrott). 



In the subsequent confusion of the 12 car pile-up that resulted from the Troll Empire and the Galactic Imperial Empire colliding, trolls ended up everywhere. Despite Her Imperious Condescension clandestinely supporting the Rebellion for her own amusement, individual trolls were not considered partisans due to official diplomatic ties and agreements between the Condesce and the Emperor. 

Due to the confusion of a new society integrating into the galaxy, somehow, someone hired a high yellow blood psionic as an AI tech on the Super Star Destroyer Executor. His unique skill set included being a failed helmsman, the ability to mentally interface with most alien systems, and the talent of being subtly antagonistic to every being in his immediate radius. His name was Saaban Verilo, and he hated being an unofficial diplomat between the two empires.

The only mercy he had was that he could spend most of the day jacked in, ignoring the pounding headache, sweat and teethache in his meat puppet that came from interfacing with an alien computer. He wrote security code, he monitored the robots, or droids, as these nook pickers called them, made sure their firmware was up to date, and when he got bored, he spied. There were cameras everywhere on this stupid boat, didn’t they trust each other more than that? Apparently not. They replaced the cheerful antagonism in the Troll Navy with this bizarre cold politeness, kissing each others nooks to get ahead and then denying it. The first time Saaban had teased a lieutenant he’d nearly been vented into space with the rest of the garbage, saved only by the dint of another troll stepping in. That troll, whatshername professionaldiplomat, had told him to keep his hands in his pants and shut his trap, then spun him back into the computer core faster than he could ask her “what the fuck?” So he gave up on being a diplomat, did keep his trap shut and his hand in his pants, and went back to telling the little robots who to get in the way of and trip.

Saaban did not become a spy on purpose. He was sure that there were official spies, counterspies, actual spies and spy programs on the Executor, some of which probably piggybacked in on his own computer jack. He was not one of them. He was just bored, and feeling mildly malicious on the day he decided to cycle through all the cameras on this stupid, overly paranoid boat, and accidentally ran into the best wank material this side of the galaxy.

For some reason these prissy Imperials were not open about their quadrants at all, and had some rules against banging your superior officer against a wall in pitch black frenzy. So when this pleasant sight unfolded in front of Saaban’s vaguely confused cortex, he decided that SOMEONE had to do something with it. Couldn’t tell Lil Miss Diplomat, she was too entrenched in beating the humans at their own game. Didn’t know if there were any more trolls on the boat. Didn’t want to tell any of his fellow technicians because he didn’t know if they were prissy as well. 

After using the spyware’s face recognition ID, he did know that he was sitting on some primetime fetish and blackmail too. Admiral and General, black, and banging on this human boat? It might give someone a laugh, or a nice boner. Who didn’t like watching two aliens in uniform rip each other’s clothes off and bite each other before fucking each other silly? It was Saaban’s first time seeing two aliens mate, and it was bizarre enough to make him stop his multitasking, and lean forward to pay attention.

No nooks, and no obvious bloodcaste divisions. They were just pink, pink all over except their hair. How fucking bizarre was that. He’d heard that they didn’t have bloodcastes, that they were all red bloods, but Saaban was still a bit skeptical of that. Sweet troll jegus, they just shoved it in their cloacas, that was not what he was expecting. Did humans have cloacas? He wasn’t sure. But the way they macked on each other was black as pitch, and even made him get a little hot under the collar, when normally he was colder and drier than the surface of an asteroid. 

When he finally leaned back, after the humans were done trying to dominate each other, he was surprised at how much his back cracked. He was stiff, the faint pleasure of watching something clearly forbidden and clandestine running in small sparks down his back. This was too good to sit on until it hatched into a cluckbeast. This needed to be shared.

He knew the pointers towards the unofficial Central Intelexecutor Agency channels, and decided to send them a nice, easy trojan. The payload was, in a word, hilarious. He threw together a quick-and-dirty highlight reel of the General and Admiral’s trips to bone town, carefully saved from daily data flushes in his own jack, set to Troll Nicki Minaj’s classic, Whip It. Saaban was particularly proud of the fact that he’d synced the whip cracks to the actual whip lashes in the video. After attaching the highlight reel and several gigs of amusing footage to the trojan, he parsed it out to piggyback, bit by bit, on the backs of official transmissions, hiding in the encryption. Hopefully some nub torrenting too much at Intelexecutor headquarters would pick it up, and spread human blackrom all across his or her screens. With the participants carefully tagged, of course. 

Confirmation that someone had seen his work showed up several days after the last byte had been transmitted, in the form of a bright pink contact request on Trollian. When he opened it with a whole lot to trepidation, he swore audibly as bright pink glitter spiraled across his glasses’ readout, resolving into a “good job, weenie buoy, LOVE the work, kelp it up” that glittered and flashed at 20pt font in the chatbox. 

He swore again, this time making a coworker turn and stare when he realized the implications. The Condesce wanted to see more of these pasty humans fucking, and now he had to deliver. Saaban leaned back to rub the base of his horns, then around his neural jacks, to try to soothe the electrical crackles that occasionally spiked out under his skin. This stupid fucking job just got so much more fucking stupid.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been planning a Homestuck/Star Wars crossover for a long, long time now, and a plot finally came to me out of the blue. So, hopefully this will be the first out of many. 
> 
> Troll technology and neural jacks are inspired by The Vienna Game by paraTactician. The event referenced is from On The Star Destroyer Venus by Eisenschrott, both of which are very good and I highly recommend them.


End file.
